


The Last Lot

by Hopeful_monster



Series: Choose your own adventure [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 07:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19329859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeful_monster/pseuds/Hopeful_monster
Summary: After escaping Arcadia Bay before Jefferson could get his hands on Rachel, she and Chloe escape only to be drawn into the dark world of information brokering. Years later as Rachel begins the final stages of her revenge on those who've wronged her she rescues someone who will shake her and Chloe's lives to their core.





	The Last Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> READ THE WARNING TAGS. Really bad things will be described, so if anything in the warnings is not your cup of tea and triggers you DO NOT READ.

“I see you of more a bulldog kinda gal. Loyal, friendly, but ready to rip the nuts of whoever gets in your face,” Rachel said as they drove to the event. Chloe made a noncommittal noise as she focused on the road. The blonde sighed, not only at her friend’s increasingly withdrawn mood but as she disliked these kinds of event. While they were great for networking, picking up tidbits of useful information, and engaging in the subtle power plays of but normally she would find the stated purpose was inelegant. 

 

I mean, who buys those kinds of things at auction these days, Rachel thought. If she couldn’t charm, bargain with, seduce, blackmail, con or threaten someone she wanted then she didn’t deserve them. Case in point was driving her to the auction and never more than three paces away from her when she was out and about. Her bodyguard, chauffeur, confidante, ex-lover and occasionally chef, Chloe Price. 

Rachel had accidentally saved her life years earlier by distracting some thugs who had ganged up on her. This had earned her friendship but the seemingly undying loyalty had come later when she had given Chloe the driver that had killed her father, a baseball bat, an abandoned warehouse and an alibi. 

 

The problem was that since then Chloe had become detached, and while she had thrown herself into the bodyguard training Rachel had got her, she seemingly lacked any goals, aspirations, or drive to do anything before protecting Rachel. The talk of dogs was an idea from Maria, give Chloe something that needed her, something that she could care for and hopefully something that would give her the unconditional love she was missing in her life and that Rachel couldn’t give her. 

 

Anyway this was a thought for later, first, she needed to obtain something for her final revenge on the family who had wronged her so badly. The Prescotts. She had already done a lot to ruin them, both financially by tanking their investments, sabotaging their deals and good, old fashioned theft, but socially as well by airing their dirty secrets, exposing their doubt dealings and questionable business practices , meaning she was responsible for the divorce and having their daughter disown herself from her father. 

 

All of this had lead to this auction, which Nathan hoped would raise enough capital to pay off the more ‘insistent’ creditors and raise enough money to fund what they hoped would be their comeback. Unlike the auctions earlier in the week, this one was of more illicit items, stolen artwork, endangered animal remains, looted cultural artefacts and even some original Jefferson pieces, now even more valuable after to his death. 

 

And of course the lot she was after. 

 

But now was the time for Rachel to put on her game face as they pulled up to the as yet unopened hotel resort owned by one of Prescott’s shell companies. It was suitably luxurious to impress buyers, but also far enough from prying eyes for the goods to be displayed more openly. Both women stepped out of the car and Rachel immediately headed into the building followed closely by Chloe who had to pass the keys to the valet. Once inside a glass of champagne appeared, as if by magic, in her hand but when a waiter approached Chloe with a tray she waved him off. 

 

“Come on Chloe, have a drink, relax. We’re ….’ Whatever Rachel thought they were was interrupted by a man charging towards them one hand up, pointing an accusatory finger, the other reaching into his jacket, shouting, “Amber you bitch!” 

 

The last syllable, however, wobbled as the man was caught by Chloe, made a brief trip through the air and ended on the floor, a knee in the back and arm twisted back at an unnatural angle. Throughout this Rachel showed no outward sign of concern, while many bystanders put it down to either her fearlessness or coolness under pressure, while the truth was that by the time she’d registered what was going on Chloe had the situation contained. 

 

She squatted down as elegantly as possible and recognised the man fluctuating between rage and pain as Chloe made minute changes to her grip. He had been a customer a few weeks back and had seemingly been satisfied with the information she had provided. Not now obviously, but she had an idea as to why. “Hello, Enrique. What seems to be the problem?” 

 

The question was asked in a calm, polite, almost sultry voice, very much in contrast to the harsh, profanity-laden response, “You fucking sent me and my men into a fucking trap, you bitch. Half my men are dead because of you, you bitch.” 

 

Oh, interesting though Rachel, I know someone who’ll pay for that nugget of info. However, with so many people watching, she needed to make it known that whatever caused this excuse for a hominid to fail was not her fault. “Oh? I put a gun to their heads and killed them? When was that, because I think I’d remember doing that. 

 

"They walked right into the trap you sent them to, bitch.” He grunted as Chloe took exception to the name calling, but Rachel ignored it continuing on politely, “ I sent them? I gave your men no orders, I just gave you what you paid for. A location. You did not pay for the floor plans, key codes, intelligence on guards and security systems, therefore you did not get them.” 

 

While Rachel’s voice wasn’t particularly loud, she’d pitched it in such a way that made it easy to eavesdrop on, and she was sure that many people were. While she didn’t have any of the information she mentioned, no one else had to know that. Chloe had remained silent to this point, but quietly asked, “Should I finish him?” 

 

Rachel paused, logically it was wise to tie up this loose end permanently, but doing so quite as openly was less than ideal. It would also involve Chloe murdering someone in cold blood. Not that there wasn’t blood on her hands, San Palo sprung to mind, but that was self-defence and the trucker… that was definitely a crime fuelled by emotion. This was new and not in a good way. 

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, will it Enrique?” The squirming man eagerly agreed with frantic nodding, nervous sweat flying from his brow, “However, if there is a next time I’d suggest spending more than the bare minimum on Intel.” 

 

By this time the site’s security had arrived and relieved Chloe of her captive. She stood up, straightened her suit and resumed her guarding stance as if nothing had happened. Rachel sighed internally but her thoughts were interrupted by a light clapping and a smooth urbane voice which said, “Artfully handled Miss Amber.” 

 

“Thank you, Senator Aitken, and congratulations on your reelection.” Rachel mentally shifted gears from a concerned friend to her more professional role. The senator looked a little smug as he was reminded of his recent victory, but it was quickly veneered over as he replied, “No, thank you for your help in that matter.” 

 

“Don’t mention it, I’m glad I was able to find a solution that was beneficial to all parties involved.” Hushing up an extramarital affair was not a problem, especially when all participants were willing and the healthly consulting fee also helped. 

 

“I wonder if you could do me a favour,” The Senator continued, before leaning over to whisper in her ear, “if you could lower the price of lot 151 I’d be grateful.” 

 

While shortchanging the Prescotts and getting a favour from a senator was something she’d go for in a heartbeat, without research and preparation time, or even knowing what that lot was, she wasn’t sure what she could do. So she let him know, “Senator, I can promise anything given the timeframe, but I’ll see what I can do.” 

 

“Fair enough, I didn’t know you were aware of the auction, and given your father’s relationship with Mr Prescott senior I’m surprised to see you here.” That was a polite way of putting it, given that the Prescott patriarch was responsible for her father's death, unfortunately, that knowledge was not widely known, so she used another connection to explain her presence, “While our fathers were not friends, I knew Nathan while I was at Blackwell.” 

 

The little creep spent the entire time they were in high school trying to get into her pants and may have succeeded if Chloe hadn’t gone to that party with her. But the senator didn’t need to know that he just needed a logical reason for her to be here and her equivocation was enough to satisfy him. 

 

Parting ways she wandered to view the lots that were on display. Of the artwork, Rachel was surprised to see the Fallen Madonna, lost since WW2 up for sale and spend some time trying to decide whether get it for herself or a client she knew would also pay handsomely for it. However, rounding a corner she found herself face to face with one of Jefferson’s photo’s and, to her disgust, recognised the girl’s as one of her classmates from Blackwell. It took all her willpower not to turn on her heel and storm out. Instead, she turned to Chloe and said, “You wanted to look at the cars, didn’t you? 

 

As codes went, simple disjunctive questions were basic enough to slip into conversations and help guide what unwanted listeners would pick up. Instantly picking up the queue Chloe responded, “Yes, I think there was a Ferrari I was interested in for sale.” 

 

There was indeed a Ferrari for sale, one of only five of that model left in the world, and while Some of the cars brought mildly appreciative noises from Chloe, they were more of art appreciation than a desire to own them. It, however, gave them time to investigate and work out a plan to help the senator. The plan, as it was, was simply to question the authenticity of the lot, suggesting that the real object was owned by a wealthy Chinese consortium. How effective this simple trick was unknown, but Rachel did notice more than a few, not so subtle, people listening in, and the odd person scratching things out of their catalogue. 

 

Not long after their little performance the action started and the betting was slow, to begin with, which was unsurprising due to the nature of the lots, assorted cultural artefacts, which had a limited audience. However the bets picked up for certain lots, some of the cars went for much more than she expected, and the artwork was fiercely fought over. This included the Jefferson photos, which had Chloe’s knuckles white with anger as she recognised some of the ‘models’. 

 

She calmed a little once those lots were over, but still was deeply unhappy about it. She was further distracted by the senator’s lot, which went for less than the list price but not by much. Aitken seemed pleased, however, raising his glass to the two women after he won. Despite all this Chloe’s anger returned with interest when the final set of lots came up. One at a time a few Women, and at least one man were brought up. They were paraded around like prize cattle at a show sometimes guided by their collars, while others needed no such encouragement, sauntering round provocatively flaunting their assets while the auctioneer listed their skills and attributes. 

 

“Chloe, please get the car ready, I want to be out of here as soon as possible.” Rachel kept her tone light, despite the turmoil she felt. Chloe’s verbal response was more of a growl, but the nod made it clear she to had seen enough. She stood and discreetly walked off after slipping her backup piece into Rachel’s purse. 

 

\--// --

 

A few weeks later Chloe returned from her day off tired, and to be honest, a little grumpy. Rachel had insisted that she take some time off and do something not related to work. The museum she had gone to was interesting, but a little too basic in their explanations for her tastes. The art gallery similarly failed to capture her as she’d hoped. Some of the works she could admire from a technical standpoint, nothing stirred her soul or even made a ripple across it. Objectively the day was a failure even before she hit the bar, and the less she thought about that the better. 

 

Since it wasn’t late she thought she’d see this guest that Rachel had sent the cryptic message about announcing their arrival but nothing else. Maria had not seen the guest and just knew that they were staying in the guest room on the third floor. 

 

As she climbed the stairs Chloe pondered on who it could be. It was more than likely personal rather than business. Rachel wouldn’t invite a customer to stay for any amount of money. Family was more likely, but she rarely interacted with her immediate family after the clusterfuck that was the discovery of her biological mom. A new … paramour seemed unlikely as after they had decided to split neither had managed more that one night stands (occasionally with each other) and the new flame would be in Rachel’s bedroom more than needing their own. 

 

She knocked then entered. then stopped. Froze, more accurately, at the sight in front of her. Kneeling next to the bed was a young woman, hands resting on her splayed knees, stark naked. The only thing hidden on her petite body was her face which was covered by shaggy brown hair. Two things Chloe noticed as her brain tried to process anything, the first was the light dusting of freckles across the girl’s (?) upper body that set bells ringing in her memory, the second was a myriad of thin, silvery lines that marked delicate areas, soles of the feet and back, the pierced breasts and vagina, and the ribs telling of not enough to eat for a long time. 

 

Chloe’s mind was still reeling when the kneeling figure spoke. It was a quiet voice, not really whispering, but in the blankness of Chloe’s mind, it seemed much too loud. “Please use this worthless bitch any way you desire.” 

 

Despite the dead tone it was delivered in, Chloe thought she recognised it. Praying to whoever would listen, her eyes flicked to the right knee and to her dismay saw it. A small cross-shaped scar from a disastrous skateboarding lesson. She then said one word that simultaneously shattered the brunette into countless pieces, but also began the long, long road to recovery. 

 

“Max?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been said that writers are sadists, and that side of me will get a workout in this series as I show what happened to Max.


End file.
